The Soft Centre

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Valerie Burnett lay in the bath, her head against the padded head-rest, her eyes closed.

Through the half-open window came the sound of distant voices from the terrace below. It was a cheerful sound, and Valerie was glad to listen to it. She was glad too that they had come to this hotel in Spanish Bay: it was everything that had been said about it. It really was, she thought, the nicest hotel she had ever been to, and she had been to so many, she couldn’t try to enumerate them.

She opened her eyes and looked down at her long beautifully formed body. Her full breasts and a small strip of flesh across her hips were startlingly white against the rest of her golden tan.

They had been in Spanish Bay for only a week, but the sun had been excitingly hot and she had tanned quickly and without burning.

She lifted a wet hand and picked up the gold and platinum watch that Chris had given to her for a wedding present. She saw it was twenty minutes to twelve. She would have time to dress leisurely and then go down to the terrace for an ice-cold martini. She still hadn’t quite adjusted herself to drinking martinis when Chris now only drank tomato juice. In some odd way, it made her feel guilty that he could no longer drink alcohol, but the doctor had warned her that she must continue to act and live normally as it would be bad for Chris to know that, because of him, she was altering her previous way of life.

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